


mini golf and labrador puppies

by the_trash_can_is_my_home



Series: mini golf and labrador puppies [1]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: "why tf is there a puppy in the hallway o well i'm adopting it until i find the owner", Fluff, I GOOGLE TRANSLATED IT, Italian Race, M/M, Modern Era, OH YEAH GOOGLE TRANSLATE IS MY BESTIE SO LIKE IF I GET ANYTHING WRONG, and his dog somehow escaped his apartment and ran down a flight of stairs, and so gay ensues, basically race is a gay disaster, because i live for that shit, but like we been knew, but spot's a decent guy and is like, can u tell i love albert/race bromance, how? that's what we're all asking, i apologise i have played mini golf but that doesn't mean i know how to write it, i mean race has a freak out but like he's race, i would die for peaches, mini golf terms? don't know her, oh and, pure fluff, rated t just because i swear a lot, she is a labrador puppy and i would die for her, spot is secretly a softie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 08:08:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21012539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_trash_can_is_my_home/pseuds/the_trash_can_is_my_home
Summary: Race honestly did not expect his dog to escape his apartment and he definitely did not expect her to be picked up by a hot guy.This is put down in my notes as:race is out doing mini golf w the fam, his dog somehow escapes... to spot's apartment





	mini golf and labrador puppies

**Author's Note:**

> i kind of wrote this partially to get through some writers' block and partially because my family went out to play mini golf and my mother got a call saying that her dog had escaped and my mind went,,, huh,,, but what if sprace? so here we are. 'tis probably crap i apologise.

“Oh, Finch, you son of a bitch,” Race cursed under his breath as Finch’s golf ball went clean through the narrow tunnel in the wall and straight into the hole on the other side. Albert cackled beside him and Race shoved him with his golf club sending him stumbling back into a group of ten-year-olds playing the hole behind them.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Crutchie said as Albert picked himself up and readjusted his cap, not even bothering to fix his bright red hair. 

“Fine.”

“I was talking to the kids you just slammed into but okay,” Crutchie smiled jokingly.

“Oh, that hurt, man,” Albert said, dramatically splaying his hand over his chest. Race snickered.

“Karma’s a bitch.”

“You say that but who’s winning the bet?”

“Me.”

“No, you dumbass Finch just beat you by-”

“Boys, boys, calm down and watch a master at work.” Jack made a big show of swinging his club as he stepped up to the tee and dropped his ball on the ground. He gazed intently at the tunnel before swinging his club backwards.

“Jack, please, no...” Crutchie said, sounding resigned. There was a crack as Jack’s putter hit the ball sending it flying into the air and sending the four others into peels of laughter.

“A master, eh Jack?” Finch laughed, leaning heavily on his club.

“This is what happens when Davey leaves me alone to deal with you guys. You have no brain cells, I swear.”

“Aw, Crutch,” Jack said, wrapping his best friend in a hug. “You love us.”

“Unfortunately.” 

Race gasped dramatically, “you don’t mean that! I’m already losing a bet, am I going to lose a friend too?” Crutchie rolled his eyes as he hobbled forward to take his turn and Race turned to Albert, still looking slightly dishevelled from his encounter with the 10-year-olds.

“I still can’t believe you bet against me, is this what love has done for you, Albert?” He said jokingly, jerking his head in Finch’s direction. They had started dating around a month ago but had been pining pretty much since they met and as an outsider, Race could confirm that it had been painful.

“I think it was  _ you _ who initiated the bet, Antonio, I just stepped in to defend my boyfriend.” 

“ _ Betrayal.”  _ Race clunked his club gently over Albert’s head and burst out laughing at the shock on his best friend’s face.

“Fuck you, Racer,” Albert said, rubbing his head however the smile on his face betrayed the fact that he wasn’t really hurt. 

“Nah, man, you’re taken,” Race managed out through giggles. Albert looked like he was about to make a smart-mouthed retort but was interrupted by Jack’s loud, obnoxious voice.

“Hey, losers! Last hole!” They shared a look before sprinting the short distance after the rest of the group.

* * *

Racetrack Higgins came out of the Mini Golf course groaning. He had lost to Finch by five and now owed Albert ten dollars and Albert was way too excited for ten dollars. Said red-haired boy was currently draped over his boyfriend and whining.

“Babe, can we get ice cream? I feel like ice cream. Racer?”

Race perked up immediately. “FUCK YEAH ICE CREAM!!” Albert pumped his fist in the air and whooped before pushing himself off Finch and fist-bumping Race.

“I mean, I don’t have a problem with it,” Crutchie shrugged and Jack mimicked the action.

“I’ll find a place we can go to,” Race said, reaching into the back pocket of his jeans and pulling out his phone. The bright screen promptly displaying several missed calls and a few messages from an unknown number.  _ Shit. _

“Shit. Shitshitshit,” he muttered under his breath, desperately trying to open his phone, why do fingerprints never work when it’s important?

“What’s up, Racer?” Jack asked as Albert peered over his shoulder.

“Shit, man, what are those about?”

“I don’t fucking know, I’m trying to look!” Race finally got his phone open and clicked on the messaging app and scanned through the messages. “Oh, fuck.” He ran a hand through his hair, laughing slightly. Wasn’t this ironic? You hear all the time about cats sneaking into other peoples’ apartments but never-

“Racer, c’mon.” Albert craned his head, trying to get a look at who was texting him. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Peaches somehow got out of the apartment.”

“Oh shit,” Jack said at the same time Crutchie asked.

“Is she okay?”

“Yeah,” Racer sighed. “Some guy in my apartment complex has her in his apartment. I’m sorry guys I gotta go.”

“It’s fine, Race.” Crutchie put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “We don’t mind, seriously.”

“Yeah, you might just have to miss out on ice cream,” Jack said.

“You bitches better save me some,” Race announced walking backwards in the direction of the exit.

“No promises!” He heard as he turned around and he flipped whoever spoke, it was either Jack or Albert, off. As soon as they were out of sight he opened his phone again and called the number that had texted him.

“Hello?” Came a slightly grainy voice through the phone.

“Hi,” Race said, slightly out of breath due to the fact that his speed walking was bordering on running. “I think you have my dog? Peaches?”

“Oh yeah, she’s here.” Was that a Brooklyn accent? Race shook his head.

“Oh my god, thank you so much. I’m not even sure how she got out but thank you for picking her up I don’t know what I would have done if something had happened to her and I was out playing Mini Golf with a few friends and I didn’t get your text until now and I’m so so sorry I-”

“Hey, it’s no problem, really.” The voice cut him off through the phone and Race started to blush. He hated how much he tended to ramble. God, he was glad this guy couldn’t see him now.

“Well,” Race started again. “I’m on my way from the mall now so hopefully I’ll be back in… I dunno, twenty minutes?”

“That’s all good. Ya dog’s a real softie, ya know that?” Race let out a soft laugh at that.

“Yeah, she is.” There was a slight silence on both sides of the telephone for a couple of seconds before Race spoke up again. “Well, thank you again, I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah, see ya soon.” The person on the other side of the line hung up and Race sighed in relief. He’d better walk fast if he didn’t want to keep the guy waiting.

There were a couple of reasons his name was Racetrack. One of them was that he was a Track star in high school and, needless to say, when he wanted to run fast, he could run fast. This was why he showed up outside his Apartment block five minutes earlier than what he estimated. 

Race opened up the message that the guy had sent him that had his apartment number.  _ 512 _ . Okay, he that was a floor below him. He could find his way there. Race opened the door and frantically pressed the up button on the elevator, definitely not more than once. Finally, it arrived and Race sighed in relief at the fact that it was empty. He got in, pressed the button and tapped his foot impatiently as it slowly moved up.

“Come on, come on,” he mumbled under his breath. The ride up might have only taken a few minutes but to Race, it felt like honest to God hours. Were the lifts always this slow? He didn’t think they were, was something wrong with them?  _ Gesú Cristo. _ How long does it take for an elevator to go up five floors? It finally creaked and clunked to a stop and Race all but scrambled out and started speed walking down the hallway, flipping open his phone to check the time and double-check the apartment number. He had three minutes and  _ 512. _

There was  _ 505… 506… 508… 510…  _ and there it was  _ 512. _ Race sighed in relief and wrapped his knuckles on the white door an almost replica of his own. It would have been exactly the same if Race hadn’t gotten high with Albert, Blink, and Elmer about seven months ago and decided it would be a great idea to paint his door a bright lime green while eating McDonald's. Definitely not the best idea they’d ever had and Race is pretty sure Crutchie and Davey were not happy with them but hey, it’s not the worst thing that’s ever happened and they thought it was funny. The door swung open breaking Race out of his thoughts and  _ Dio mio. Merda,  _ Race is so gay. Like, really, really gay.

The guy in front of him is short, like at least a head shorter than him but, God, what he lacked in height he made up for in attractiveness. He was wearing a bright red tank top and black pants and  _ Dio mio _ ,  _ those muscles. _ Okay. No. That’s creepy. Race was suddenly aware that he had been staring and blushed slightly as he moved a hand behind to rub his neck awkwardly.

“Umm… hi?” He said hesitantly.

“Hi.” 

“I think you have my dog? Peach-” Race was interrupted by a sudden flurry of yellow zooming towards him. It snaked his way through Short Hot Guy’s legs and sprang off the ground into Race’s arms effectively knocking him over. Race laughed loudly.

“Hi, Peaches, ya miss me?” As an answer, he got a slobbery lick across the face with a small, rough puppy tongue. “I’ll take it.” He hears a soft laugh from the hallway and he looks up, suddenly remembering why he is sitting in the hallway.

“Sorry,” Race said, sheepishly looking up at Short Hot Guy. “I know she can be quite a handful, thanks for taking her in.”

“It was no problem. She’s an excitable little thing though, isn’t she?” Short Hot Guy said and Race should definitely not be turned on by that thick Brooklyn accent. 

“Oh, that she is,” he smiled, petting her head gently. “Do I get a name to pair with the heroic rescuer of my little rascal? Or am I just supposed to call you Short Hot Guy Who Lives On The Floor Below Me?” He pushed himself off the ground and smirked across (and down) at Short Hot Guy who had his (extremely muscled) arms crossed across his chest.

“Spot.” He said with an air of finality. Race looked at him expectantly.

“That it?” Race said. “Sounds like you should be the dog, not the puppy in my arms.”

“Old high school nickname. Couldn’t shake it so now I just go by it,” Spot said, smirking back at him. “What ‘bout you? Do I get a name?”

“Antonio Higgins at your service,” Race said, giving a mock half-bow. “But my friends just call me Racetrack.”

“And you’re telling me my name is stupid.”

“Shaddup.”

They stood in silence for a bit until Race awkwardly cleared his throat. “Well… I should be getting back to my-” he trailed off, pointing vaguely upwards in the direction of his apartment.

“Yeah,” Spot said, nodding. “Uh… I’ll see ya ‘round, Racetrack.”

“Yeah,” Race said and started walking back towards the elevator. “See you ‘round.” With one more smile, he turned around and walked to the elevator with an armful of excited puppy.

* * *

“Race! We were wondering when you were going to call, is Peaches okay?”

“What? Huh? Oh yeah, she’s fine. The absolute demon.”

“Don’t call her that, she’s an Angel! You okay, Race? You sound kind of out of it.” Race ran a hand over his face and laughed.

“Fuck, Albie. He’s hot.”

**Author's Note:**

> uh if you did like this piece of shit... kudos? comment? they make me feel warm and fuzzy :) keep my crops growing. my tumblr is @/hobbitinthetardis if any of you wanna talk to me about... anything. LOVE YOU ALL THANKS FOR READING :)


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